My House, I Say Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
My House, I Say
My house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
That make my roof the arena of their loves,
That gyre about the gable all day long
And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:
Our house, they say; and mine, the cat declares
And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;
And mine the dog, and rises stiff with wrath
If any alien foot profane the path.
So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces,
Our whilom gardener, called the garden his;
Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode
And his late kingdom, only from the road.
Yes, a valid point, RLS, although you don't strut about, as the owner, you need a little respect from employees...And yet your pets are given special rights! As are, mine. Your gardener overstepped the mark, I see, and had to be given notice to leave! Quite right, too. Thanks again my friend, RLS RJF
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4/24/2024 12:01:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces, Our whilom gardener, called the garden his; Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode And his late kingdom, only from the road. very fine poem tony